Lightning in a Bottle (RP)

There it is again!

Roald quickly turns around and holds his breath. The faint whistling sound is carried by a small breeze of wind.

I know this

All the time hanging around in bars is finally having some use.
but what were the words...
quietly he sings along with the part that is repeated.

When the times are dark and evil rules
There's no need for jesters nor for fools
Oh my knight, get me out of this mess
come and save this damsel in distress

Over and over again the song is repeated, and he carefully walks in the direction of the music.

Ezmaray continues to whistle, occasionally pausing to listen to her environs. She doesn't hear a voice calling for her; this seems like a promising sign. Her ruse might just be working!

After a bit, Ezme switches songs, once again focusing on the bridge of the new melody. As she does so, she slips off her moccasins so she can wade in the river waters and leave behind no scent that can be tracked. She gives Wankle a playful wink, taking a few steps in the direction of the bridge. As long as she keeps switching songs, these creatures will have a hard time keeping up and imitating her.

Ezmaray suddenly freezes in her tracks, her song falling silent. If the creature could only use words in her voice that it had heard her say, then...

She spins urgently back to Wankle. "Wankle! Was Shireen actually in these woods?!"

Ezme swiftly takes two steps back to see if Wankle is still there.

Ezmaray stops and stares at the space where the creature vanished, her expression first one of frantic dismay, and then growing anger. At the sound of chuckling, she looks around herself, her lip curling into a snarl. She looks down the river toward the sobbing. She looks up the river toward the bridge. She clenches her fist with angst and frustration.

This choice is not easy, but Ezmaray knows enough about bate and traps for one thing to be clear: they wanted her to hear that sobbing through this blanket of silence....

Ezmaray grimaces, makes an obscene gesture to the air, then trudges upriver toward the bridge. "I will not fall for the childish games of person who is too chicken to face me like man!"

If Shireen was out there, if she could be rescued, Ezme would do it on her own terms, even it meant working with the accursed magic of that mystic.

As she walks, Ezmaray continues to whistle bridges, looking as if she doesn't have a care in the world.

.... Inside, she fumes.

Roald keeps walking in the direction of the Whistling, at first he doesn't even notice that the direction changed. But when the song changes too he pays a little more attention, stops for a minute and listens carefully.
Is it moving?

Gronk replies to Albert, "These wounds are more than flesh and blood- they are the cost of my magic. That may be why your healing did not work, although I appreciate the attempt."

Gronk rises to his knees, then to his feet with no small but of effort. He looks a but worse for wear, but he can travel for a bit if he moves at a steady pace. Setting off in the direction Roald went, he says to Albert, "Come on, we need to clear the mist around Roald before he is attacked again. Once we have him, we can bearte him for running off without thinking, and then we can go find that other girl. I'm sure they could not have gone far."

With that, Gronk heads off with Albert in the direction Roald went.

Ezmaray puts four fingers in her mouth, doing the wolf whistle as loud as she can to draw the attention of the men. She makes a dash to catch up to them before they leave the bridge. Her feet are so numb, she can't even feel the small cuts she's probably sustaining in her rush.

Albert is still a bit confused about why Raynor's healing didn't work, but he nods when Gronk explains it. "I see. This is the price of ritual magic then." He replies. "No wonder it is feared and no longer tolerated in most regions."

He helps Gronk get onto his feet. "Right, with us clearing the mist, we can find them and get them back safely." He agrees with Gronk. "I'm right behind you." At this, Albert grabs his staff from behind his back and grasps it firmly. Hopefully he won't need it.

"I've been hearing whisteling. But I can't pinpoint which direction it came from. The mist is not only confusing our eyes, but also our ears." After walking a little while, he decides to call you. "ROALD?" He calls out the name a few times and waits for a reply.

There is a loud rustling and a cry as Ezmaray of House Folder bursts from the underbrush growing beneath the bridge. She pants heavily, barefoot and clutching her moccasins in a tight fist, her face twisted with consternation as she regards the two men who turn to face her.

"House Roald?" she huffs to Albert. It's more a statement than a question.

Roald walks around in the mist, getting more anxious with each step.
"Roald you dumbass, you should know better than this.''
He has no other option than to admit to himself he's lost. The whistling has faded away and stopped some time ago. But being to stubborn to just sit down and wait for rescue, Roald keeps walking while shouting EZME! once in a while.
There is completely no landmark in sight, or earshot to orientate himself.

Albert recognizes Ezmaray, though her expression suggests something has happened to her recently. At least they are together again, and as long as Gronk can keep the mist at bay, they should be safe. "Yes, Roald. Have you seen him?" he asks her in an urgent tone. "We can't find him."

Ezme frowns and gives a single, brief head shake no. Recognizing her cue, she wordlessly starts checking the edges of the road for a track to follow. Eventually finding Roald's trail, she gestures to it and summons the others over. "He left the road here."

She nods her head approvingly toward the iron tip of Albert's staff as she watches them approach. "The mist creature I encountered out there was afraid of metal."

The trapper takes a moment to pull her moccasins back over her numb, scraped up feet, her eyes studying the forest warily as she does so.

"I do not think any creature of the mist will outright kill us or our friends... More am I concerned about the master...." She gives the others a meaningful look. "The mist is serving someone nearby, feeding them power by inflicting some sort of strange, invisible damage...."

Ezme grits her teeth, resisting the urge to touch one of the terrible gashes the mistling had inflicted upon her. Thank the gods the itch was wearing off now. She'd been half afraid she'd lose her mind from it.

Having slipped her moccasins back on, Ezme straightens, pulls out her dagger, and nods that she's ready. "Stay close, mystic," she growls a little suspiciously.